


Allow Me to Reconstruct Your Reality

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Rimming, Slight Asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 21:03:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1402378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place at the beginning of Trou Normand.</p><p>Will finds himself in Hannibal's office instead of Grafton, West Virginia, and has a bit of a break down. He doesn't know what is real and what isn't- but Hannibal offers to help him pull apart his world and put it back together, piece by piece, until there is a reality Will can recognize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Allow Me to Reconstruct Your Reality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaqen_hgar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/gifts).



> This stemmed from a lot of porn appearing on my Tumblr. And I since it was Jagen_Hgar's fault, I thought it would be nice to write a little something for them.
> 
> And because they are a gift to this fandom and I adore them.
> 
>  _And because they are willing to paddle the Hannigram ship with their bare hands with me_.

Will blinked, breathing with a start, the room around him flooding in through his eyes in colors and walls he hadn’t expected. He looked around, confused, seeing but not connecting for a moment, until the sound of a door opening behind him caught his attention. He turned, watched as Hannibal stepped partly through the doorway, clicking the light off. He looked up, and gave Will a shocked small half-smile.

“Will, I wasn’t expecting you.” He held onto the door, and Will just stared, yes flicking around, nervous, lost.

“I don’t know how I got here,” he admitted as he walked in, after Hannibal had flicked the light back on and closed the door, tugging his hat and scarf off, leaving him on a chair with his gloves.

“Your car is outside, so we know you drove.” He removed his jacket, settling it on his chair as Will walked around, nervous twitches blatantly evident.

“Well, I-I was on a beach in Grafton, West Virginia, I blinked, and then...and I was waking up in your waiting room. Except I wasn’t asleep!” His voice cracked on the last word.

“Grafton, Vest Virginia is three and a half hours from here. You lost time.” Hannibal spoke calmly, his eyes watching Will, taking in the way muscles contracted beneath skin and over bone with each pulse of nervousness. Every movement made his tongue want to press to skin, feel the muscles pulse.

“There’s something wrong with me,” Will whispered, hands pressing together, separating- unable to keep still, sliding along the room in the air as if he was liquid, currents rolling through him.

“You’re disassociating, Will,” he said, wanting to reach out and touch and hold, press to, _re-associate_. “It’s a defense mechanism for a psyche that endures repeated abuse.”

“No no, I am not abused!” Will had made his way to the door, his eyes frantic now, breath small pants that could have been taking for excitement, not fear. The two were so similar.

Hannibal wanted nothing more than to help Will transition from one to the other.

“You have an empathy disorder,” he said, following Will, his eyes dark. Will didn’t notice, didn’t see- the room was almost spinning to him, Hannibal’s voice was the only thing he could make sense of in that moment. “What you feel is overwhelming you.”

“Yeah, I know, I know, I know,” Will was muttering, stopping at the chaise longue to fold his hands together, press his forehead into them and welcome the darkness.

“Yet you choose to ignore it,” Hannibal offered, “That’s the abuse I’m referring to.” Will exhaled, falling back down onto the furniture, raking his hands up along his face, into his hair. Hannibal wanted to replace his hands with his own, but he held still. For the moment.

“I’m saving lives,” he whispered, voice wavering as it left his lips, “I’m doing something worth while.”

“And that feels good?” Will gave a little nod, and Hannibal closed the distance, crouching down. He reached for Will’s hands, taking them into his own, running his fingers along bone and feeling the way the skin gave ever-so-slightly. Will leaned closer, the slightest of movements that Hannibal didn’t miss.

“But what is it doing to your life?” Hannibal squeezed gently. “I’m your friend, Will. I don’t care about those lives. I care about your life. And your life is separating from reality.”

Will swallowed, the lump in his throat refusing to leave. Hannibal’s hands were warm, encasing- they steadied the shaking in his fingers. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if they could steady the rest of his trembles. But those thoughts were _dangerous_ \- Will had had them before, and with every new one they were harder to swallow back.

“You’re supposed to be my anchor,” Will whispered, daring to look at Hannibal’s eyes. _Had they always been that dark_?

“I can put your reality back together,” Hannibal offered, and Will watched as he adjusted from a crouch to falling to his knees, his hands leaving Will’s and running up his arms. The trembling ceased, and Will’s lips parted in the faintest of gasps, wanting to feel Hannibal’s finger tips on his skin, the heat of his palms. “But you have to be willing, Will.”

Will gasped audibly that time, and Hannibal knew he had him. He fought the fire in his gut at finally catching the man at the perfect breaking point, where he could be the center of his reality, where he could be the thing Will _had_ to cling to. Will was staring at him with those stormy eyes- an assortment of grays and blues that melded together like storm clouds, pupils slightly wide. Scared, but excited. Hannibal could _smell_ it.

Hannibal slipped between Will’s legs, Will leaning back, staring, breathing escalating, as Hannibal’s abdomen pressed directly between his thighs, his chest almost brushing Will’s belly. He was staring up at him as if he wanted to devour him.

Will was sure he was dreaming, that he had been asleep.

“Are you willing?” Will felt Hannibal’s breath, against his lips, and his words tangled in his throat, under his tongue. All he could do was nod before he knew he was moving, and Hannibal gave the faintest of smiles, before he closed the gap, lips sliding up along Will’s. The younger man froze, felt one of Hannibal’s arms slip around his waist, under his jacket, as his mouth moved slowly, coaxing. Will gave the smallest of movements in return, unsure that anyone’s lips could be that warm, that perfect. Hannibal tilted his head, pressing harder, and Will shivered, eagerly kissing back suddenly, unable to keep the want in.

It had boiled for too long.

The kiss was like liquid, it made Will feel drunk. Lips slid so perfectly, his mouth opening slightly as Hannibal’s did, deepening it. When Hannibal sucked his lower lip into his mouth, held it between his teeth, Will gasped. Hannibal drank down the sound and pulled back, grabbing Will’s jacket and nearly tearing it off his shoulders, tossing it to the ground as he stood up. Will fell, back onto the chaise longue, staring up as Hannibal settled onto it, straddling his hips in a way that made Will groan.

He knew by the flash in the man’s eyes that Hannibal had heard the sound.

Will squirmed as Hannibal placed a hand to his belly, running it up along his clothed torso, to his neck. It slipped past his collar and wrapped loosely around his throat- holding, but not cutting off. Will’s stomach ached, clenching as Hannibal leaned over him, his other arm pressed near Will’s head, supporting him, as he sought out and found his mouth for another kiss. This time Will pressed up right away, his body pushing up with his mouth, his pulse burning against Hannibal’s palm. When Hannibal’s tongue traced the seam of his mouth, he gave, opening for him, gasping around his tongue, as the muscle pressed against his teeth, tested the sharpness and, pleased, slid along his own.

He reached up, daring the touch, his hand slipping under Hannibal’s jacket, finding his waist, gripping at the fabric of his vest and shirt below. He held on as his head was tipped back, Hannibal delving in deeper until Will felt a captive in his own mouth and whimpered around Hannibal’s tongue, the man’s hand still on his throat.

Hannibal pulled back, pressing his mouth to Will’s jawline, the stubble rough and oddly alluring, scraping his lips as he kissed along to his neck, removed his hand only so he could press his lips to Will’s pulse point, sucking gently, tongue flicking out against skin. Will squirmed, exhaling,

“Hannibal.”

Hannibal smirked, let his teeth touch flesh.

“Tell me I’m awake.” Will arched, pressing his body tighter to Hannibal- the psychiatrist rather pleased to feel the affects of his caresses rubbing up against him- pleased too that Will had not shrunk away, had not attempted to flee. Knowing he wanted it too made this far sweeter.

“Oh, William,” he breathed, “You’re _very_ awake.”

Will gasped, pushing up harder, his cheeks flushed ever-so-slightly. Hannibal pulled away from his neck, leaning back, fingers working quickly along the buttons of Will’s shirt. As each inch of delicious skin was revealed he felt his own pulse throbbing between his thighs, until he was tugging the shirt down Will’s arms and it was discarded to be forgotten. He bowed his head again, this time finding Will’s collar bone and licking along it, loving the little sounds he made. He mouthed down further, stopped to exhale over one of Will’s nipples before closing his mouth over it.

Will groaned, reaching up and wrapping an arm around Hannibal’s shoulders, hand burying in his hair. He thrust up, grinding wantonly as Hannibal sucked, laved his tongue across the overly sensitive bud, worried with his teeth until those sounds became broken, Will stuck at a point between wanting more and having too much.

Hannibal eased his suffering and furthered it by moving over to the over bud of flesh, and the broken sounds became whines, parts of words. Will tossed his head, crying out when Hannibal finally continued to trail down his stomach. He felt the muscles flexing beneath his mouth, contracting against his tongue, rapid with each pant of breath. He was almost dizzy.  
He was sure Will’s head was spinning.

Hannibal tore himself away, climbing off Will, and the man gave a protesting cry, reaching for him, before his eyelids fluttered as Hannibal stripped of his jacket, worked at the buttons of his vest. Will kicked his shoes off without being asked, and Hannibal flicked his eyes to the hem of Will’s pants.

He popped the button open before Hannibal could think of asking. He smiled and let his vest drop- had this been anyone else, he would have stopped to fold everything, but Will was in such a precious state that he had no time to lose- before he tugged his tie loose and free. He reached down, sank his fingers past the waistband of Will’s pants and underwear, and tugged, Will lifting his hips to add him. He watched his cock spring free, to lay against his belly, as he guided the clothing completely off Will’s legs, leaving it pooled on the floor.

Will’s cheeks were flushed, a lovely red that matched the color along his cock. It had already left a wet smear along Will’s belly, and Hannibal crawled onto the furniture, reaching out to wrap his hand around it.

Will choked, and he could feel his pulse through the silken flesh.

He stroked him slowly, enjoying the give of skin, the rigidness of muscle. Will was nearly weeping, the corners of his eyes wet, his mouth forming words that never came. Hannibal wondered how long it had been since someone else had touched him, and decided it didn’t matter. After this, no one else ever would. Will wouldn’t want anyone else to.

Will’s hands were fisting at his sides as he tried to raise his hips, to make Hannibal stroke him faster. Smirking, instead the man pulled away, standing, Will giving a protesting cry before Hannibal grabbed him by his hips, flipping him over with ease. Will gasped, grabbing at the couch, and then Hannibal was on him, pushing his legs apart, hands running along his ass.

“W-what are you doing?” Will whispered as flesh parted under skilled palms, as he felt Hannibal exhale against his hole. He squirmed deliciously.

“I’m helping you reconstruct,” Hannibal whispered, and then his tongue was pressing to Will’s muscle, the younger man giving a sharp cry. He tried to squirm away, but then he pushed back against that wet heat, the way Hannibal’s tongue lapped and traced making his gut ache and his balls tighten.

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, pushing up on his elbows and letting his head fall down. “Mmm, Hannibal.” His name on Will’s tongue made Hannibal grip at his legs, hold him like iron, and Will said it again, voice breaking at the end as Hannibal’s tongue pushed into him, causing him to quake.

The room was swimming before Will’s eyes. There was nothing but the grip of Hannibal’s finger tips and his perfect tongue, nothing but the want in Will’s belly and the thick words on his tongue. _More. Yes. Please_. He didn’t know if this was real, _truly real_ , but he wasn’t sure if he cared in that moment. If this was that slot of time between his reality and the gaps in his brain, he’d be more than happy to sink into the cracks and stay here.

When Hannibal retracted from him, stood up, Will pushed himself up and looked at him with pleading eyes, watched him cross the room to his desk, retrieving a small bottle and returning back. Will didn’t move, and by the smile on Hannibal’s face, that was what he wanted. He settled back, and Will heard the bottle uncapped, the sound of something wet-

And then Hannibal’s fingers, tracing where his tongue had moments before. Will squirmed, unsure suddenly, but Hannibal’s other hand traced up the back of his thigh, over his ass.

“Shhh,” he soothed, “Do you trust me, Will?”

The answer was undeniable.

_Yes_.

Hannibal slipped one finger inside him, and Will squirmed against the foreign feeling. It wasn’t _bad_ but it was _new_. He sucked his lip into his mouth, worried it as the digit moved, in, out, in again, slicking the inside of his entrance-

Then the second. Will gave a little cry, a small start- there was a moment of burning, stretching, but when Hannibal moved it felt _pleasant_ , made his thoughts swim and melt over his brain, sloshing inside his skull.

“I will show you what is real, dear Will,” Hannibal whispered, leaning over him, placing a kiss to his spine as he scissored his fingers, stretching his body. “I will anchor you to your undeniable reality.”

Will was nodding although he barely heard him. Hannibal kissed again, curled his fingers, and Will cried out, corners of his vision going black then blinding white. He felt more than heard Hannibal chuckle.

“Shall I do it again?”

“ _Please_.” Hannibal obliged him, hitting a spot inside Will the man hadn’t believed existed, and he stretched out, groaning, pushing back against Hannibal’s fingers. Another hit, and Hannibal was pushing a third finger in, Will groaning.

“Open up for me, _darling_ ,” Hannibal murmured, and Will found himself pushing back, seeking the fullness Hannibal was giving him, the way it made his entire body feel stuffed. Made his body feel heavy, like he couldn’t lift from the ground, from this realness.

Will was shaking, but it felt _good_. There was something in his muscles, something that itched to move, and he began pulling away from Hannibal, squirming to escape him. When Hannibal’s fingers were gone, Will felt empty and the heaviness lifted, and he was floating, unsure again if this was happening. He turned as the room swam, scrambling to his knees, wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s neck and pressing to him, chest to chest.

“I want to kiss you,” he mumbled as Hannibal slipped his hand back between his thighs, pushing his fingers back inside.

“What is stopping you?”

Will smiled, leaning in, pressing his mouth heatedly to Hannibal’s, pushing his tongue past lips to explore his mouth finally. He tangled both his hands in Hannibal’s hair, sliding against his clothed body, rocking down against his fingers. His cock throbbed with each hit to his prostate, was leaking down the shaft, but Will almost didn’t care. The delirium he was in was sweet.

He untangled his fingers from Hannibal’s hair, reaching between them to work at the buttons of his shirt. His fingers were trembling, making it hard to navigate, but he managed, dropping his mouth to Hannibal’s neck, before dropping down and pressing his cheek to his chest, enjoying the tickle from the hair he found there, and gasped, mewling, his body so close he could nearly taste release.

“Close,” he was mouthing, and Hannibal was pulling out, forcing Will from his place against his chest and turning him. Will whimpered but didn’t fight it, tossing his head in an attempt to unstick his curls from the sweat on his forehead. He heard the whisper of cloth moving from skin, knew Hannibal’s shirt had dropped to the floor. The man stood from the couch, toeing off his shoes and stripping completely, before climbing back on behind Will, pressing flush to his back, his cock rubbing up against the flesh of his ass.

Will gasped, felt Hannibal reach his arms around him, one along his waist, one his shoulders, his hand reaching for Will’s throat. He pressed against it, felt his pulse, the way the muscles expanded so he could breathe. Hannibal kept his grip tight- but not so much so to cut off air, as he pressed his mouth to the back of Will’s neck, sinking teeth down until he tasted blood. Will gasped, cried out, squeezing his eyes shut as his eyelashes grew wet.

“Not yet,” Hannibal breathed, “Not yet, dear Will.” He sucked at the wound, his hand closing somewhat, and Will gasped, his vision constricting. His hand loosened, and the room swam without black- tightened, and again Will felt the corners of the world creeping in on himself. “Tell me, Will,” Hannibal whispered, still grinding against him, enjoying the fact that Will’s ass was slick from his preparation, making it easy for skin to slid together, “Tell me, does this feel real?”

“I- I don’t know,” Will nearly sobbed, Hannibal’s hand loose on his throat. “ _Fuck Hannibal, I don’t know_.”

“You’ve disassociated,” he murmured, finding Will’s ear, tongue hot as he traced the shell. “Your reality is deconstructed.” His hand around Will’s waist dropped down, grasped his cock and stroked him once, twice. “We can put it back together now.”

Will was shaking his head, pushing into Hannibal’s hand, aching to have his fingers inside him again, for the heavy feeling of being weighted down.

Hannibal kissed the wounded skin at the back of his neck, face in Will’s hair, smelling arousal the overt sweetness of his sickness, and then he was pushing him down, grabbing at his hips and angling them up. Will missed when Hannibal had slicked his own cock up, but as he pressed the head to his entrance, Will’s eyes went wide, his mouth going slack, and he squirmed, pushing back against Hannibal as he inched his way inside.

“F-uck,” Will gasped, broken, clawing at the chaise longue, body stretching to accommodate the psychiatrist like Will had never stretched before. There was a burn, yes, but beyond that the wonderful feeling of heaviness in his belly again as Hannibal bottomed out, stopping to feel Will quivering around him. He ran a hand up along his spine, soothing.

“Do you feel real?” he whispered, and Will was nodding.

“Y-yes,” he whispered, “W-with you inside me.” His words shot fire through Hannibal, and he pulled back, snapping his hips into Will and causing the man to cry out. He dragged his blunt nails down his spine as he repeated the motion, and Will’s head was tossing, pushing his body roughly back to meet each of Hannibal’s thrusts. When he hit that spot inside Will again the man was screaming, sounds torn right from his throat, his belly turning over inside him, knotted to the point of pain.

Hannibal let his head tip down, focusing on keeping his body steady. Will felt better than he had expected, and it was so _tempting_ to drive into him with abandon- but not yet. Not just yet.

“Can I-“ Will started, and Hannibal grabbed a handful of his ass, making him cry out.

“ _No_.” Will whimpered, his cock leaking onto the furniture, begging to be touched. “Am I anchoring you, Will?”

“Yeah.” He pushed back, the room a blur. He closed his eyes against it, licked his lips. “H-Hannibal, lemme _please_.”

Hannibal twisted his mouth into a smirk, grabbing Will and pulling him up, arms going around him again. One went back to his throat, holding, feeling pulse and breath and the sweat on his neck, the other around his waist, grasping his cock. He stroked with each timed thrust, and Will was shaking, squirming, gasping and whining in a sweet symphony that infected Hannibal’s mind, spread his feverish desire.

“Ask me again,” Hannibal breathed into his ear.

“Lemme cum,” Will whimpered, “Please, _oh please_ Hannibal, I need to, I need it, I need it, _I need it_.” Hannibal chuckled, breathy, his own breathing escalated- his heart rate higher than he was sure it had ever been, Will was simply that _exciting_.

“Cum, Will.” He nipped at his ear lobe, and Will cried out as Hannibal’s fist tightened- splashed his own stomach as his body clenched at Hannibal, squeezed and released so tightly Hannibal lost his breath. He fucked Will through the waves, as the man’s face streaked with tears, until he was nearly sobbing, pressing back against Hannibal, slumping against his chest, head tilted back against his shoulder. The psychiatrist released his cock, that hand going to Will’s hips, holding him steady as he continued to drive into him, every thrust ripping some sort of sound from the man’s mouth.

Will’s body was on fire. Hannibal’s continued assault didn’t give his orgasm the chance to truly stop, and the waves were tugged at his nerves, his mind, dragging him out to sea to drown. He felt Hannibal’s hand trail up his throat, and lifted his head as two fingers were shoved into his mouth, pressing against tongue and teeth. Will sucked on them greedily, heard Hannibal groan low in his throat, an animalistic sound, and shuddered again.

“I’m going to build you up,” he said as Will’s tongue traced his finger pads, “Piece by broken piece, my darling Will.” He pressed his cheek to Will’s curls, hit his prostate with a forceful thrust, and Will was moaning around his fingers. “You’ll see. _You will see_.”

Will didn’t understand and didn’t care. When Hannibal pulled his fingers from his mouth he was gasping. “Too much,” he whined, “Hannibal s-stop-“

He was cut off as Hannibal shoved him down, face into the chaise longue. Will gasped as Hannibal pushed his hips down so his cock was rubbing against it, one hand pressing him down by his upper arm, the other sinking into his hair and holding his head steady.

Will gasped, managed to turn his head slightly, whining.

“This is your reconstruction, Will.” Hannibal’s words were breathy, he was holding off his own orgasm- Will felt too good to let this end. Too perfect holding him so tightly, squirming, pushing up against him even after he had asked him to stop. “This is your design.”

Hannibal fucked him with true abandon, driving into him so hard Will couldn’t see. He gave a broken sob, his prostate being hit with every thrust, and felt his stomach knotting impossibly tight again.

“No,” Will whimpered, “This is _yours_.” He clutched at the furniture, lifting his hips slightly, adding to Hannibal’s angle as the man dipped his head down, a gasp torn from his throat. Something about that sound made Will tremble. “Tear me apart,” Will whimpered, “ _Please_. I like it when you stitch me back together.”

Hannibal pushed in harder, deep as he could, and Will screamed, his throat raw as he came again, his muscles constricting impossibly tight around Hannibal, his cock twitching but having nothing left to give. Hannibal groaned, finally gave in, the pressure in his belly and the base of his spine too much. He filled Will, hot and white and slick, and let his body take all there was. When Will’s muscles finally relaxed, Hannibal lowered himself down onto the man’s back, kissing at his neck, his curls, staying firmly inside him.

Will found he could breathe, even with Hannibal’s weight. The man was bracing himself with his arms along Will’s body, and it left him feeling encased, enveloped. He whimpered, his voice broken, let Hannibal’s heat seep into him, unable to open his eyes for fear the room would be nothing but a muddled color mix, swirling around him and swallowing him down.

Nothing could do that so long as Hannibal was over him, in him, weighing him down.

The man’s lips on his neck soothed the ache, the broken skin, the bruise forming. Hannibal inhaled sharply, smelled sex and sweat and Will’s sweetness, his own cologne mingling down on the man’s skin. It was heady, even for him, and he rested his forehead in those curls, closing his eyes for a moment, attempting to regain his breath.

When he finally did pull out from Will’s body, the younger man gave a needy whine, whimpering at the emptiness. Hannibal moved off of him, shifting him around so Hannibal could stretch out on his back, pulling Will into his arms, stretching his body over Hannibal’s and laying against his chest. He tipped his head back to Hannibal’s shoulder as one hand stroked along his belly, teased the fine trail of hair at his navel.

“Do you still feel real, Will?”

Will nodded. He felt weight, despite not having Hannibal inside him. His thighs felt slick, and that evidence of Hannibal’s orgasm was giving Will the grounding he needy. He felt filthy and he _liked_ it.

Hannibal’s hand on his belly went further, past his cock to cup his balls, and Will groaned, shook his head.

“You’ll kill me,” he whimpered, as Hannibal pushed the younger man’s body up further, fingers dipping past, to push against his abused hole. Will whimpered, but Hannibal didn’t enter, only traced it, pressed against the slickness. Will began to tremble.

“Tell me who you are,” Hannibal whispered, finding his neck, mouthing against his pulse, which was still hammering.

“M-my name,” Will whispered, swallowing, Hannibal’s fingers still teasing. They spread heat in a way they shouldn’t, and Will feel a tightening in every muscle. “My name is W-Will Graham.”

“Good.” He kissed at skin, nipped it, slipped two fingers back inside him. Will gasped as they thrust easily. “Where are you?”

“I’m in B-Baltimore,” he offered, “Baltimore M-Maryland.” He shook his head as Hannibal pushed deeper, kept just the two fingers inside him, but seemed to find his prostate with ease again. Will gasped, saw stars and blinding white fire as he grasped back at Hannibal.

“And who are you with?”

“You.” Another hit, and Will thought he might die.

“Tell me who I am.”

“You’re _everything_ ,” Will gasped, spreading his legs as best he could, giving Hannibal better access even as his nerves screamed that it was _too much_ \- but oh, it wasn’t enough. It was never going to truly be enough. “You’re my anchor.” He pushed down, felt Hannibal finally add a third finger, and gasped. “Fuck Hannibal, you’re my goddamn reality.”

Hannibal chuckled into his neck, sucking on skin, sure to leave another bruise. Will wondered if he’d be peppered with them from his fingertips as well. He hoped he would be. He hoped he’d wake up in the morning aching as a reminder that this had _happened_.

“You’re me,” Will breathed, stomach tightening again. He was close. He didn’t even know he _could_ be close again. He didn’t think he had anything left to give. “And I’m- I’m y-you.”

Hannibal shoved deeper into him, and Will cried out, his voice hoarse, his body clenching for the third time, this orgasm wrapping its fingers around his brain and tearing, shattering everything inside his skull. Hannibal wrapped his other arm around his waist, draped his hand on his side, held him through it, massaging into his prostate to prolong it. By the end, Will was gasping, barely able to breath- crying and unsure where his body found the water for it.

“Shhh,” Hannibal soothed, kissing up his jaw, pulling his fingers out and adjusting Will so he could nuzzle into his damp curls. “Dear Will, you’re safe here. You’re real here.”

Will whimpered, wriggling around until he was on his belly, nestling into the crook of Hannibal’s neck, inhaling his cologne, the sharp smell of sex. He shivered, reached a hand up and dug fingers into Hannibal’s hair.

“Did we get it right?” he mumbled, his brain foggy. He wanted to sleep, he thought. That was what it felt like. He wanted to pass out here and lose a few hours to a sweet nothingness, warmed by this man and his body, his solid presence around him. Hannibal had his arms around him, stroking whatever skin he found. “Did we put it back together right?”

“We did William,” Hannibal whispered, “And we will again, every time it breaks.” Will nodded, drowsy, kissed at Hannibal’s throat. “You can sleep, Will. I will be here to hold you together.”

Will relaxed, feeling safe, believing the soothing, silken voice that invaded his brain space and sunk into his mind, tendrils squirming in deep to his memories. He believed, because he _trusted_ Hannibal and the reality he had reconstructed for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Will, _don't trust Hannibal Lecter_.


End file.
